so why don't we go
by Trylan Aire
Summary: This girl could kill him if she wanted to. And, in the end, she sort of did. /makorra/ *severe angst*


_au_

_/makorra/_

_I walked across an empty land_  
_I knew the pathway like the back of my hand_  
_I felt the earth beneath my feet_  
_Sat by the river and it made me complete_

_Oh simple thing, where have you gone?_  
_I'm getting tired and I need someone to rely on_

* * *

She laughed at him, sometimes, when he got caught up in himself and everything that was so very wrong with his twisted mind. He didn't mind much, though, because when she smiled it felt like everything in his world shifted. Like the curl of her lips chased away the dark, warding off all the monsters and fears that infested his conscious, wreaking havoc in his mind. Her hand was cold, but he didn't mind much because she was always holding his, and her cool skin felt right against his warmth. So he let her laugh and imagined kissing her until she was breathless and unable to laugh anymore.

Then there were some days when she was gone, and he couldn't find her in time to get rid of the dark. And he would crumple in the corner of his room, his head bowed between his knees, clutching his forehead and chanting her name like a prayer beneath his breath. He would feel her hands slide over his skin in moments like that, he would hear her murmur softly and assure him she was there, and she would meld into his skin and press fully into him, like she was a part of him. And he would smell her hair, and remind himself that this had to be real. That her hands were really cradling his cheeks, her thumb rubbing soothing circles over his jaw, her lips moving and breathing strength into his skin. After all, she had always been the stronger one. He had to force himself to remember why. She had to be strong. She was fearless, a pillar of trust and loyalty and brute strength that ended up being the only person that unraveled him completely. This girl could kill him if she wanted to.

And, in the end, she sort of did.

He remembered how easy it had been-before. When the days in Republic City were bright and beautiful, and he would wake up to her sprawled across his bed, looking ragged and a completely angelic mess. And how she would laugh, and the sunlight gleamed in those impossibly blue eyes- everything was so simple then. They had just been kids. Messy little kids who were two in love for their own good. They walked around the City with their fingers intertwined, and he could almost replicate how he had felt those days. He had been on top of the World. But that had been before his skies fell, and the ground crumbled from beneath him- leaving him without a home, and just floating in an endless void of absolute nothingness. He had been a stupid kid, but he had never been oblivious to what she was capable of. Her clumsy hands were capable of so much damage and ruin, and he just prayed she never realized it. She did, eventually. And just like his, her life came crashing down like a tidal wave that swept her underneath and pinned her beneath the surface- never allowing her to come up to breathe.

It ended in fire- like everything in his life had. She had been smiling that morning, and he really should have known something was wrong by the look in her eyes when the skies were painted red and grey. And before he could call for her, she was gone, fists clenched and her chin high. He saw blue disappear into fire, and he had stumbled back from the force of the flames. The light was blinding, and he remembered shouting for the citizens to get back- that the Police would take care of this. That was his job- to take care of it. To keep everyone safe. Huh, funny how things worked out.

He almost thought he heard because this was _Korra_. And Korra just didn't _die_. Her lips had curled up, beneath the layers of blood, scorched skin and ashes. Her hair was singed, blackened and covered, and she had crumpled in the wreckage. Tand Mako had wanted to be angry with his brother. He had wanted them all to move- to get out of his way. So he made them. It had only been a little bit of fire- but Bolin had screamed and Asami had fallen back, her hands cradled to her chest. And Mako had crumpled where Korra lay, tears blurring his vision. He could, however, see the blood on Asami's palms, and the way Bolin clutched at his shoulder, and how the tunic he wore was burnt down to the skin. Korra had been gone by then. Fate had always been cruel that way.

It had been only days after her funeral that it all fell apart. Asami wore gloves now, and Bolin's left arm never moved quite the same way again, but they were always there. He wished they would go away. His head ached at the thought of what she would think of him- sitting in the dark, unable to look at his own reflection. He saw her in the mirror sometimes, too, leaning against the doorway and smiling at him. He turned quickly each time, expecting to see her there, arms open, blue eyes crinkled at the corners. She never really was.

He was able to trick himself, eventually. Once Bolin's visits became far in between and Asami had given up. He could close his eyes and feel her there, hear her laugh and imagine her smiling up at him-almost like nothing had changed. And she would talk to him, hers hands cradling his face. She would tell him she loved him, and speak the way she always had. Nothing had changed. This was Korra, he rationalized, and she's here. She's never leaving again.

And the days she didn't come were the hardest. He was left to remember- remember how the flowers had smelled at her funeral, and the way her Parents had cried over the casket- and how he had thrown up in the bathroom after the ceremony. He was left to actually remember she was gone. So he did his best to forget- and built an imaginary world around himself where Korra never left. He forced himself to recognize a world where Korra was always beside him, laughing, her hand in his.

It was better this way. He could be happy with her. She could be happy. And he would ignore the papers that told about how the new Avatar had been found- and how he had been a young little earthbender boy with a crooked smile and big, impossibly green eyes. He burned those papers when he found them. Better to just pretend. Pretend. Pretend. Pretend, he insisted.

And her eyes would get sad, dark around the edges, and she would ask him to stop when she saw the fire in his palms. She would lean over, her palms raking over his forearms. He hated how goosebumps would rise where her hands travelled. Her lips pressed together, and her hand moved towards the fire he held in his hand. He extinguished it in his palm, his eyes growing wide. "No." he asked-begged- her. She shook her head and opened her hand out to his. He tilted his chin down and tears collected in his eyes. The fire roared from his palms and her hand pressed to the flame. Her fingers passed through it, and she watched as it consumed her palm- though she felt nothing and it left not mark.

"Stop pretending, Mako. And keep living for me."she whispered, and he felt her lips ghost over the flat of his palm. And she was gone. He had screamed, begging her to come back. He slammed his fists against the walls, demanding she return to him. She wasn't gone. It wasn't possible. She had been the strong one, didn't she remember that? Mako had never been able to handle loss very well- it had always been Korra that had held him up. She had kept him alive all these years.

And now that she was gone- he was having a hard time keeping that promise.

* * *

_Oh simple thing, where have you gone?_  
_I'm getting old and I need someone to rely on_  
_So tell me when you're gonna let me in_  
_I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin_

_And if you have a minute why don't we go_  
_Talk about it somewhere only we know?_  
_'Cause this could be the end of everything,_  
_So why don't we go_

_Somewhere only we know_


End file.
